


one man show

by xshe



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, can be taken as gen though, written as cullen / ink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xshe/pseuds/xshe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing special about him. Alistair, that is. Cullen honestly can't figure out why they are so... enthused. He was good looking, he guesses, if you were into tall, strapping visions of Adonis with perfect hair and a chin like a cinderblock. And friendly, he'll allow, the man wasted no time at all in introducing himself to nearly everyone in Skyhold and offering stories, advice, help of all kinds. And he was funny, sort of. And humble. Hard working, charming, affable. And he'd got really, really nice hair.</p><p>Cullen absolutely hates him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one man show

He's not jealous. That would be... really stupid, firstly, and secondly, kind of pathetic. He's merely invested in the emotional well being of his peers. Keeping an eye out for them, as it was.

"Oh, Maker, look," Evelyn says, shifting to stand higher on her toes and tucking her arms to her sides as she leans ever farther over the railing to gawk. "Look at him. Wow."

Cassandra, wide eyed, grunts her agreement, seemingly too captivated by the Warden's broad, rippling arms as he beats away at the practice dummy to properly enunciate a reply.

There's nothing special about him. Alistair, that is. Cullen honestly can't figure out why they are so enthused. He was good looking, he guesses, if you were into tall, strapping visions of Adonis with perfect hair and a chin like a cinderblock. And friendly, he'll allow, the man wasted no time at all in introducing himself to nearly everyone in Skyhold and offering stories, advice, help of all kinds. And he was funny, sort of. And humble. Hard working, charming, affable. And he'd got really, really nice hair.

Cullen absolutely hates him.

"Do you think he'd marry me, if I asked?" Evelyn whispers, not at all quiet.

Cassandra looks incredibly grave, even though Cullen is mostly sure the Inquisitor isn't serious. "He was supposed to have been in love with the Hero of Ferelden, and heartbroken when she sacrificed herself, swearing over her broken body that he would never love another. They say her grave is surrounded by thousands of red flowers, each grown from one of his princely tears."

Cullen can't help but to feel smug at the dismay on the Herald's face, ready for her to knock Cassandra down to reality.

"That's so romantic!" she whispers, covering her mouth with her hands. Cassandra nods very seriously, and then they both gaze at Alistair some more. Cullen very carefully does not glower.

"They always have some tragic tale of an ex love, don't they?" Cassandra breathes after a moment. Evelyn 'mm's and rests her head on her hands like a schoolgirl.

 _I don't have a dead girlfriend,_ Cullen thinks, churlishly, and without thinking, scuffs his boot against the stones.

The sound unfortunately alerts them both to his presence, and Cassandra leaps like a startled cat caught in the pantry, while Evelyn just looks... like Evelyn. Vaguely disinterested. She gestures behind her to the Warden and his stupid stick, right past Cassandra's scandalized face. "Come to admire the view with us, Commander?", she asks, completely unruffled at getting caught... voyeuring.

Uhhh. "Uhhh. No."

Damn it. Think.

"I'd... I'd simply come to make sure of the time I was to meet you tomorrow. About those... those chevaliers. From Orlais."

"11 AM." A lightly accented voice comes from behind him, and they all turn to see Josephine, just for her to brush by him and stand on the other side of Evelyn. "Ah, good, just in time." She says. 

"For what?" Cassandra, returned promptly to full Seeker form.

Josephine gestures ahead, where Alistair has proceeded to take off his shirt. Of course he's taking off his shirt. Of course you could probably drop a soverign in the crevices between his abs and lose it forever. Even his hair still looks perfect. Damn it, damn it. Cullen hates him so much.

Alistair turns and looks directly at the group assembled on the terrace, and smiles with about 10 thousand bright teeth and his perfect eyes crinkle as he waves at the three women (and Cullen) and all three wave back, jerkily, like puppets on a string.

As soon as Alistair looks away, Evelyn lets out a massive gasp and grabs onto Josephine's arm, Josephine covers her mouth with her other hand, and Cassandra stands completely still looking vaguely shell shocked.

Cullen stomps back into the keep. 

**Author's Note:**

> and then he reconsiders his hair product, and then adds 50 situps to his training regimen. 
> 
> i wrote this with inky/cullen in mind. my trevelyan looks incredibly disinterested in everything so that's where that came from.


End file.
